


what is fruit juice between two friends?

by ficfucker



Category: The Great Gatsby (2013)
Genre: M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pining, Sharing Clothes, Swimming Pools, sunbathing and jay gay gazing, will probably turn into smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-04
Updated: 2018-08-04
Packaged: 2019-06-21 18:40:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15564030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ficfucker/pseuds/ficfucker
Summary: gatsby is becoming rapidly aware of his own feelings for nick





	what is fruit juice between two friends?

**Author's Note:**

> first time writing great gatsby stuff so go easy on me, guys

Nick stands to his left, gazing out the window of Jay’s bedroom in the direction of the ocean with an indifferent expression on his face, having been invited by Gatsby after realizing Daisy would not be able to visit for the day. With his notable inability to be alone, seeming absolutely tortured in his mansion if left by himself, he asked Nick over, assuming him a decent substitute, being the cousin of Daisy. 

Gatsby is in a white muscle shirt and brown canvas shorts, ignoring trivial modesty in the company of Nick and chalking it up to the causal relationship with his neighbor. No reason to fuss with formalities if he wasn’t going to make an appearance in public. 

“Care to go out on the boat, old sport? Fine day for it,” Gatsby offers. 

Nick turns and despite the politeness to his smile, it does very little to mask his true apprehension, the hesitation in his eyes. “Perhaps the pool? I’m not dressed for anything that involves being seen by other boaters,” he says, bashful. 

“The pool, of course!” Gatsby exclaims and he pulls open one of the drawers to his great chestnut bureau by it’s golden nob. “I’m sure I have a swimsuit that will fit you, old sport, that is if you don’t mind borrowing one of mine.” 

“Oh, not at all.”

Gatsby finds a black muscle shirt and black shorts that seem a close enough fit to Nick, him being a bit more slender than Jay, not by much, but perhaps more noticed if wearing swimwear. He passes them to Nick who has drawn closer, and says, “You know the way to the guest bathroom, don’t you, old sport?” 

Nick smiles and nods, taking his leave to allow Gatsby and himself their respective privacy. 

Gatsby changes into a black, one piece suit and pauses to examine himself in the body-length mirror he has in the hallway before proceeding to see if Nick is arranged. He feels a little foolish, wearing something that is so tight fitting to his chest and groin, but nudges the feeling away. 

The door to the bathroom is swung open in time to Gatsby approaching it, successfully startling him enough as to flinch away from Nick, who is standing in the frame, looking equally (if not more) surprised. 

“Quite a nice fit,” Gatsby comments in an attempt to distract from his obvious wince. 

Nick looks down at himself as if not completely pleased with his appearance, though comes away with the same timid smile he is often bearing. “A better fit than imagined.” 

“Shall we, old sport?” Gatsby starts down the staircase, pleased to hear footsteps not far behind as he goes. “We can swim a while and after I’ll order out the juicer, have some oranges pressed.” 

“You don’t need to do anything fanciful for me, Gatsby, you know that. I’m content with just a dip in the pool.” 

“Nonsense! The day is hot, and young at that! It calls for something refreshing, more so than only a swim.” Gatsby opens the backdoors and gestures Nick out onto the tile, not allowing himself so much as a glance lower than Nick’s shoulders as he passes in front of him. 

Nick steps lamely into the water using the stairs while Gatsby perches himself on the diving board, watching Nick get accustomed to the temperature, the feeling of the water rather than leaping in. 

“Are you going to join me, Jay, or perhaps this is a ploy to make me look foolish?” Nicks asks and his smile is large, genuine, showing some of the whites of his teeth. 

Gatsby would never admit to the sudden jolt in his chest at being addressed by first name, and instead of acknowledging the playful taunt of his neighbor, he stands, raises his hands above his head, and, with as much grace as he can perform, slips into the water. The splash is minimal, having practiced his dives before on his own time, and travels under the surface until he turns up at the opposite end of the pool. 

He threads his fingers through his now wet hair, droplets of water running down the slope of his nose and to his chin. “Take a dive, old sport,” he says, cheerful. 

Nick wades in a bit deeper, up to where Gatsby assumes his navel is. “Have you used the pool this year? Prior to this, I mean?” he asks rather than responding to the suggestion.

Gatsby turns around and begins to backstroke his way to Nick, answering with, “A few times, though awfully lonely if not during a party.” 

“And what? I make suitable company?”

Gatsby stands in the water, now much closer to Nick, though deeper in the water than him, up to his chest. “Of course! What makes you think otherwise?” 

Nick swishes his arms, seeming like he’s unsure what he’s actually supposed to do in a pool. “I’m a failing author and poor bondsman, nothing compared to the people who show up to see you.” 

Gatsby scoffs, running his hand through his hair again. “Anyone within Daisy’s bloodline is much more interesting than the lot,” he says softly. 

A wave of regret washes over Gatsby as soon as the words are birthed, worried that Nick will think himself as only a poor replacement for what Gatsby truly desired. “Would you like juice now?” Gatsby sputters. “Fresh bread?” 

Nick has yet to produce an answer and Gatsby is already swimming his way towards the ladder, stepping out the pool and walking into his house. “Be out in a moment, old sport!” he calls. 

Gatsby summons a butler, his heart a fantastic thrum of nerves reverberating in his throat, feeling as frantic as the night he first saw Daisy. Nick has a similar appeal to him, if not greater, which feels like betrayal to his devotion to Daisy to admit, even if only in his thoughts.

He orders for the fruit presser to be brought out along with the water he’s tracked onto the hardwood to be wiped up immediately before going back outside. 

He scans the yard a moment before locating Nick; reclining on a towel in a lawn chair, sprawled out completely on his back, a hand over his eyes to shield from the midday sun. Gatsby’s heart aches at the sight, how domestic and soft it is, to have Nick in his clothing in his yard, at ease enough to rest without worry. 

“Juice will be out in a moment, old sport!” Gatsby announces, which arouses Nick from his position, sitting erect and smiling across the yard to him. 

And truthfully, Gatsby is beside himself with unnamed emotions, anxiously wringing his bathing suit with both hands despite most of the water having already been squeezed out. He strides across the tiled area to where Nick is seated and takes place in the lawn chair that twins the one Nick is occupying. “If you’re hungry, be honest, old sport, I promise I have any meal you could ask for.” 

Nick smiles and shakes his head, his manners always getting the best of him. “I’m quite alright, Gatsby, I assure you.” 

Two butlers walk onto scene, carrying the large juicer while a third butler hurries up behind them, a folding table tucked beneath his under arm. 

Gatsby stands, excitable, and without second thought, is threading his fingers through Nick’s, taking hold of his hand and bringing him along to the table. Once again, feeling in wonderful extremes, guilt ripples through him and he releases his grasp, only to find that Nick is undisturbed by the gesture. 

“Take an orange, see what this beauty can do to it,” Gatsby encourages.

And so the two men spend most of their day making various blends of juice, more than either would actually drink, but enjoying the way the machine so expertly performs the task; switching between lounging in their chairs, sunbathing and chatting idly, and wading in the pool, despite Nick clearly not being one for swimming; smiles shared all the while, Nick much more relaxed in the company of one rather than a crowd, and Gatsby's heart swells for the entirety of their time spent together, this bizarre sense of pride and admiration. 

He thinks, if available, he will invite Nick over the day after. 

**Author's Note:**

> haven't read the book since high school, but i just bought two copies of the book and figured now is a good as time as any to write some stuff on it 
> 
> kudos and comments are the reason im alive 
> 
> thank u for reading !


End file.
